


A fair price

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2014 [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Facials, Gangbang, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sensory Deprivation, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2279553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and the knights participate in a Druid ritual, robbing them of sight, sound, and inhibitions - a.k.a. handwavy reasons to have a Round Table gangbang in under 750 words</p>
<p>(Merlin Summer Pornathon Challenge 7 - The Senses)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A fair price

There's a hand on Arthur and he doesn't know whose, in the warm silent darkness, but he doesn't care. It curls around the crest of his hipbone, rough with sword-calluses, fingers edging into the hair between his legs, and Arthur spreads his thighs welcomingly. 

It occurs to him vaguely that had he not accepted the Druids' wine, that were this ritual not vital to negotiations, he might not be so accepting. But the lifting of his doubts and warinesses by the magicked wine has also lifted some of the veils from his eyes, and he cannot deny that he has wanted, _craved_ this kind of wantonness since he came into manhood. 

Someone mouths wetly at Arthur's neck. He gasps, never having thought he'd be so tender somewhere so commonplace, and more fingers find his open mouth to fuck between his lips in crude suggestion. Arthur suckles, imagining the tang of steel to be something else, more bodily, something he has never tasted but often hungered for. 

There are five hands on Arthur now, pulling at his knees to spread them, palming at his ribs to turn him, and he goes willingly, wantingly, and the fingers in his mouth hook until he opens, panting. Something bumps his bottom lip, slick and warm and sweat-bitter, leaving a wet track behind, and Arthur licks it off and feels the blood heat between his legs, realising. A gentle hand cups the back of his neck, a thumb pries his mouth wide again, and that taste fills him again as someone carefully, so carefully, feeds him their cock until it bumps the roof of his mouth, the back of his throat. Arthur is forced to breathe through his nose or choke. 

Hazily-lazily, he knows he would not be averse to that. His own cock hangs heavy and blood-full between his legs. It is untouched, not a single brush of skin, but he feels like he could go off with just a breath, a hint, a word -

\- but there are no words down here in the dark. No sound, no sight, just touch, taste, smell. Visceral and pure, the Druids want an offering of carnal power, warrior-seed and royal submission, brotherhood and loyalty and trust, all at once, and Arthur needs their power and support so he is paying their price, he and his most beloved knights. 

One of them is fucking his face now, hard and sure, familiar hands rough in Arthur's hair. And fingers are sliding over Arthur's skin, to the tense muscle of his arse, his virgin, untouched hole - he does not know how many of his knights are there, slick-touched and careful, making him clench-squirm as they ease one fingertip and then another against him, softly in, out, pulling just the tiniest amount and then oh, _oh_ they push, they crook, one knuckle deep and then another, another, until Arthur's joints are locked tight and he's trembling, drooling helplessly around the cock in his mouth that keeps him breathless, pushing back and back onto the fingers - three now, or four, a gut-deep ache punched into him that he never wants to cease. 

There is a place inside him they brush more and more that makes him whimper and his spine arch and sway. 

His mouthful pulses, and Arthur hums and tries to swallow it deeper, only to have it pulled from his swollen lips, his gasping face upturned, then stripes of bitter wetness splash him, he's marked across the cheek, the mouth, can feel heavy droplets on his eyelashes, and he's on fire between his legs, he's full and ready for release, so close, so _close_ but there's no relief for him yet. The fingers filling him so well are pulled free and he would protest but they're replaced with cock, thicker, longer, aimed true and sweet to drive pleasure into his bones like a battering ram, and Arthur can't hear it but he knows he's moaning like a wanton thing - at least until his mouth is filled again. 

When Arthur comes, cock untouched and yet no other part unmarked, his senses roar awake, all five of them, like a sunburst. And when he comes back to himself, sated, exhausted, it's to soft murmurs in his ears, and the sight of his loyal knights caring for him and for each other, and he thinks that if this was meant to be a price, it is not one he's sorry to pay.


End file.
